


Not Jealous

by snowbellewells



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:20:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28778925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowbellewells/pseuds/snowbellewells
Summary: She doesn’t have time for flirting or to appreciate dashing rapscallion in their midst, so why does the fact that Hook and Tinkerbell clearly have a history between them get under Emma’s skin so badly?  She plans to ignore her feelings as usual, but the island and its dangers might make that difficult...
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones & Emma Swan
Comments: 9
Kudos: 25
Collections: CS Neverland New Year





	Not Jealous

**Author's Note:**

> {Written for CS Neverland New Year’s event; sometime around 3x03 “Quite a Common Fairy”}

“There’s no reason to be jealous, you know.”

The offhanded voice speaking up with nonchalance just to her right before the petite blonde appears almost soundlessly out of the profusion of trees and underbrush at Emma’s elbow nearly makes her jump.  _ ‘Tinkerbell,’  _ her mind supplies rather unhelpfully since she is a long way from being able to address a fully grown woman she can actually see and talk to by the name of a cartoon fairy who once adorned her favorite secondhand backpack and made her giggle on the rare movie night in the group home’s rec room. Emma had spent several years in a row wishing she had someone to help her get or make a Tinkerbell costume for Halloween before she had admitted defeat and given up caring about the holiday at all. She had related to this… this  _ fairy.  _ (Nope, her mind didn’t stumble over it any less the move times she thought the word.) When she first encountered what she had thought was the story of Peter Pan and his adventures, her child self had easily latched onto someone else who seemed like a bit of a Lost Girl.

Instead of offering any of this out loud, Emma focused on not crying out in surprise at the uncanny way the green and brown clad woman now circling around to face her had appeared seemingly out of thin air, as if she really could fly on pixie dust as Emma had once believed. 

“What?!” Emma snapped in irritation as the unwanted visitor’s brow furrowed and she tilted her head with the admittedly adorable blonde top knot to the side, as if trying to understand this strange visitor to the island. “Can I help you?” Emma pressed, not at all comfortable with such intent scrutiny.

Tink (for Heaven’s sake, here she went off the deep end) shook her head. A cheery smile quirked her pale pink lips and put a dimple in her cheek, as if she were blithely unaware of Emma’s irritation. “No, I don’t need anything, but it seemed like  _ you  _ might,” she explained. “Just though you should know you don’t have anything to worry about… where Hook’s concerned, I mean,” she hurriedly added. “We worked together, had an alliance against Pan when he was here before, that’s all. The rest is just his teasing. You must know that… Nothing worth envying.”

For reasons Emma couldn’t begin to fathom, the wingless pixie (Could she even still be one if she couldn’t fly?) shrugged again, looking at the ground almost forlornly, much to Emma’s surprise. Still out of sorts at being caught out in the first place - not on something she didn’t even want to admit to herself - her frustration and embarrassment made her speak before thinking. “I’m not. Why should I be?”

She winced as soon as she heard her own sharp tone, but before she could stumble through an apology, Emma realized her words had brought a twinkle to Tinkerbell’s eyes, a playfully knowing smile crossing her cherubic face. “I see… Of course, you aren’t…” she echoed agreeably enough. Still, Emma felt as though the other woman had learned something she hadn’t intended to reveal.

Reaching out to offer one of her small hands to shake Emma’s firmly, her welcome clearly meant, Tink grinned even wider. “Well then, that’s all. Just thought I should say that I’m on your side, Savior, not an opponent.” And with that she slipped away again with just as little a trace as she had made on her arrival. 

Shaking her head, Emma tried to draw in a few more deep breaths and take comfort from the cooler breeze as the sky darkened toward evening. She’d need to get back to the rest of the group soon; they’d all heard plenty of Hook’s admonishments not to wonder off alone. Too bad that also meant heading back to everyone looking to her for direction, when all she wanted was to run through every inch of this jungle, calling Henry’s name blindly, until she saw her son again. It was a lot - too much. She didn’t have time to worry about saucy fictional characters come to life or a handsome newly reformed villain with a tendency to make her sweat even more than this island’s heat and humidity every time his eyes caught hers. Nevermind that look of mischief their pirate guide had turned on the pretty sprite when they’d met her not long ago, nor the familiar way his addressing her as ‘Lady Bell’ had rolled off his tongue. Why should she care, or even take notice?

Just as she had asked that of the fairy in question, Emma was now reminding herself the same thing. That settled, she valiantly shrugged the incident off and started her trek back to camp.

***** ****** ****** ******

Of course, she should have known it wouldn’t stay buried for long - not even an entire day, in fact. The next afternoon found them slashing their way through a nearly impenetrable thicket which was supposed to lead to the mermaid’s lagoon. Supposedly the island’s capricious and deceptively lovely sirens were in possession of (or would be able to get) a healthy dose of squid ink, a substance both Hook and Regina managed to suspiciously agree would be indispensable to them when they reached Pan’s camp - and Henry within it. Contact with the ink would effectively immobilize the island’s immortal evil child and his pack of Lost Ones long enough for them to escape with their boy in tow.

It was a solid plan; things finally felt like they were coming together instead of the lot of them trudging in circles, sweating, snipping at each other and getting nowhere. Yet, as she brought up the rear, following behind Tink, Emma couldn’t help wishing they didn’t need the pert little spitfire. She had been nothing but friendly and helpful to all of them save Regina - deserved animosity there, Emma had no doubt - and it was more than clear Snow already considered them fast friends, but something about Tinkerbell’s light, easy demeanor and how she still looked adorably fresh and dew-kissed despite their muggy, miserable surroundings made Emma want tug her hair right out of its updo. Not to mention how Hook’s eyes seemed to be drawn to the quick smiles and inside jokes from his former cohort or to follow the movements of her dainty figure seemingly floating through the mud and vines that bogged the rest of them down.

Or so it seemed to Emma, who grew more and more aggravated with herself at every step for every thinking about it in the first place. Grumbling as they drew into view of a clearing where the group could hear falling water splashing down into a larger pool nearby, she was already anticipating the levels of charm and innuendo Hook would no doubt feel the need to lay on in order to wheedle the mermaids’ secrets from their treacherous lips. Granted she was also stomping more loudly than she intended, muttering all the while about “ridiculous showing off” and “just more admirers to fawn over that stinking handsome face and feed his gigantic ego”. She hadn’t noticed that the rest of the group had pulled ahead, out of sight through the trees and underbrush, leaving only she and Tinkerbell still in the overgrown forest.

She could sense the other woman slowing down, ready to turn and offer more unnecessary assurance or advice. It was the last thing Emma needed. Hook was no concern of hers beyond getting them to her son. Henry was the only person she should be worrying about. Who that swaggering pirate stole his private moments with - or had or hadn’t done so with in the past - wasn’t any of her business, and the sooner she made that clear to Tinkerbell, the better.

Just then, when the green mass around them began to thin, with brighter sunlight and mist from the lagoon’s water in the air, Emma reached to jerk a large vine out of her path, grasping it tightly to yank it out of the way, then dropping it with a sudden, pained cry of shock. Despite how rude and unwelcoming she knew she had been to the newcomer, Tinkerbell was at her side in an instant, pausing only to call out to the others.

Though it had only been a second, Emma’s hand still tingled and stung where she had caught the skin on several thorns, unseen until the damage was done. Clutching the hand to her chest, she tried to brush off the fairy’s obvious concern, but her words seemed to trip over each other sluggishly, her tongue thick and unwieldy. She could hear the worried exclamations of her parents, Regina’s irritation at the delay, and then a sudden warmth nearby as she registered Hook’s voice demanding to know what had happened. None of them were clear in her vision though. She wasn’t sure if it was merely unshed tears stinging her eyes at the pain in her hand swelling and spreading up her arm, much worse than it ought to have been for a few scratches, or if she had been struck by some sort of diabolical magic booby trap Pan had set for them.

“Swan? Emma! Can you hear me?” Hook - Killian’s - voice, clipped with anxiety, sounded muffled and far away, but she still tried to look up toward him. She wanted to nod in recognition, but she couldn’t be sure if she had managed to do so or not.

The world seemed to tilt on its axis strangely for a second before Emma realized she was moving, but not by her own power, nor were her legs any longer supporting her weight. All sensation beyond the burning tingle all across her injured palm and up her arm was muted, but it did finally register through her haze that two arms had surrounded her, lifting her off her feet and cradling her against a solid, warm chest. Her vision was still blurred, but she knew as soon as she turned her head to lean against the person, and caught a whiff of salt and musky spice, that it was Killian who was carrying her.

“What - where are we going?” she tried to ask, but the words were still disjointed. She knew she was flushed, overheated, and short of breath. A painful rasp had added its presence to her bewildering symptoms and she couldn’t make any other words audible. Whether it was some nasty effect of what had obviously been a poisonous plant, her own embarrassment, or the pirate captain’s nearness, she suddenly seemed to be burning up. Enough of her time was already spent trying to keep a physical space between them, to ignore how drawn to him she was - and had always been - being held close to his chest had her already overwhelmed system on overload. 

“Shh… never you mind, Lass. Just breathe.” He was already slowing down, stooping to set her gently on a decently soft, sandy surface. Emma knew they must be at the edge of the lagoon, even as she felt Killian start to pull away. Almost blindly, she caught his hand - still too proud to beg, but frightened enough to want him to stay.

As seemed to be his way, he clearly understood her unspoken plea in that maddeningly accurate way only he seemed to possess. Wordlessly, he squeezed her hand in return, and kept it within her grasp. Instead of moving away, he began to give orders to the rest of their group hovering around anxiously.

Soon, her mother’s soft, gentle fingers were stroking her brow with cool water, and she could hear Hook questioning Tinkerbell about what she had touched. 

The poor fairy’s voice quivered with genuine emotion as she answered, “I didn’t see exactly. She was right behind me, but I could tell she didn’t want me getting too close…” Even without seeing her, Emma could tell the other woman didn’t know how to explain that or whether she should go on before she eventually added. “I heard her cry out, and when I turned around she was flinging some vine away. It had thorns on it, but it looked like any other plant.”

There was quiet all around her for some time, though she thought she might have heard the rumble of Killian’s low voice murmuring what the culprit might have been. None of the specific words stuck in her memory for long. The next thing she was aware of was the cool metal of his hook, sliding under her hand and lifting it; then careful fingers running over her own aching ones. Her hand was turned over, though she could see little more of it all than blurred shapes. There was a sharp tug, and then an immediate relief and release of pressure. 

“What was that?” she heard her father demand intently, and even as they all awaited the answer, Emma felt a bit of the numbness recede. She drew in a fuller breath, and then another, blinking rapidly as a bit of the haze before her eyes cleared.

“There was still a thorn embedded in the skin; its venom was spreading.” Killian’s voice informed them, retaining calm and low tones as he showed them the culprit.

Without warning, her head still spinning, Emma raised her eyes to thank him and was caught in his searching gaze; that blue she could drown in if she let herself boring into her as if he never wanted to look away again. “Alright there, Love?” he asked, still holding her hand lightly in his.

She nodded mutely, not sure how else to respond for a moment. She felt better with every moment that passed, and yet she was still off balance and unguarded in the face of how he was staring at her. “I - I think so,” she finally answered, gulping in air. “Thanks to you.”

The smallest of half-smiles tilted one side of his mouth endearingly at her gratitude. He had probably thought he’d never hear the like from her after all the grief she’d given him along the way. “All the same, with your permission, I had better make sure we get all of the poison out.”

“Uh...okay?” she agreed uncertainly, not at all sure what he could mean by that. And in the next second, his dark head was bent over her raised hand; the cool steel of his appendage still soothing and supporting, and now a warm, wet suction drawing whatever lingering trace of the plant’s poison from the largest of the wounds. He was literally sucking the poison out with his own mouth. Inhaling sharply, Emma wanted to stop him, to try to protest. Couldn’t he be poisoned instead that way? And yet, she was unable to speak; an almost electric shock running through her at the sensation of his lips and tongue on her tender skin.

When he straightened again at last, no one spoke, but their eyes held for a moment charged and intense before the spell was broken by Mary Margaret tearily thanking their pirate guide and then throwing her arms around Emma’s shoulders tightly. David was shaking his hand and slapping him on the shoulder, expressing his own thankfulness that Hook really did know the island as well as he’d said. Regina was off to the edge of the clearing, making a fire as evening began to fall and grumpily bemoaning their theatrics and the waste of time. 

Tink merely crouched nearby watching the whole scene with wide, pleased eyes; as if she knew what all of it meant and somehow approved. Emma didn’t understand it, but she wasn’t about to find fault. She’d given everyone quite a scare and the fairy had been genuinely upset that she was hurt and anxious to help. Her own surly attitude had been part of what lead to her mishap in the first place, and it was time she stopped holding something against the fairy which wasn’t her fault in the slightest.

***** ***** ***** *****

It was much later that night before she had a moment to herself to breathe again. Things had finally settled down. They had eaten and turned in to find what rest they could for the night. Yet, as exhausted as she should have been, Emma was only tossing and turning in her bedroll on the rocky ground. She didn’t seem to have any lasting side effects from her encounter with the thorned vine earlier, but her mind was what wouldn’t rest. 

Rolling over, her eyes just caught Hook’s silhouette in the flickering light of the dying campfire. He sat on a large rock near the water. Whether just pirate enough to find even that small pool comforting, or he thought the mermaids might actually come up out of their habitat to attack them while they slept she didn’t know. She wouldn’t put anything out of the realm of possibility in this place anymore. Yet, pensive as he appeared, she knew right where she needed to be.

Standing as quietly as she was able, Emma made her way over to where Killian sat, until she stood right beside him, drawing his attention from wherever he had been lost in thought. “Alright there, Captain?” she asked, trying for a bit of playful camaraderie when the right words failed her.

His eyes lit with pleased humor as he scooted to the side to make room for her and she crawled up onto the rock as well. “Aye, right as rain, Lass. The question is, are you?”

She nodded, looking into his eyes and reading the true worry behind his willingness to play along. He had been afraid for her, much more so than he had let on. Swallowing hard and forcing herself to be more open than she usually allowed with him, she took his hand and leaned nearer just the slightest bit. “I am, Killian. Truly. Thank you. You saved my life.”

For a second she wanted to bite through her tongue, feeling she’d said both too much and not enough all at once, and that he would see all the other conflicting feelings she had for him swimming under the surface of her heartfelt thanks. He didn’t speak, merely wrapped one arm around her in the chill of the night air, so different from the muggy heat that weighed on them in the day, and gathered her closer to his side. 

Once again, as if he could sense the change in mood she needed, he broke the silence a few moments later with a mockingly playful jibe. “So, not a bit jealous, eh Swan?”

Her mouth fell open in surprise as she jerked back to see the humor lighting his eyes. For a second she was tempted to keep up the charade, roll her eyes, shove him away and stalk back to her spot of ground, but she couldn’t do it. Not after everything. And sitting here beside him like this - the closeness and the comfort - it felt too good to give up merely to save her pride. She refused to look at him blushing the way she was though. Burying her face in his chest, she admitted, “Well, maybe just a bit.”


End file.
